


Kissed by Fire

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Banter, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Smut, Wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Jemilla and Zazzalil enjoy an evening together when the rest of the tribe has gone to bed.In other news, fire is hot. Fluffy smut.
Relationships: Jemilla/Zazzalil (Firebringer)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	Kissed by Fire

Fire was already beautiful during the day or in the dim light of the cave. At night, it was entirely mesmerizing. Jemilla couldn't look away. The fragile flutters of sparks flying up into the pitch black sky, the dying brightness of the flames as the fire was slowly fading, the glistening burning embers underneath, it was a whole spectacle on its own. Everyone else had gone to bed but Jemilla had not yet found it in herself to.

Zazzalil, on the other hand, was tired enough for both of them and would have retired for the night probably hours ago if it weren't for Jemilla. Not willing to leave for an empty bed, she had relented and was presently snuggling into Jemilla's side, wrapped under the same fur blanket. She was occasionally nodding off but every time she caught herself, narrowly avoided completely collapsing to the ground, and pretended nothing had happened.

"Babe," Jemilla eventually said, taking pity on her after the most blatant of ever closer calls, "Do you wanna go to bed? You're exhausted."

"What are you talking about?" She yawned soundly. "I've never felt more awake."

Jemilla nudged her gently.

"If we stay much longer out here, I'll have to carry you back."

"Nuh huh," Zazzalil retorted. "I'm so awake _I_ could totally carry _you_."

That offered too much opportunity to tease for Jemilla's taste.

"No, you couldn't."

No matter how late at night, there was nothing Zazzalil loved more than a dare, especially with odds stacked against her. Before Jemilla could even register, Zazzalil had jumped to her sluggish feet. She gave a startled cry as Zazzalil's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her over one shoulder.

"Zazzalil!"

Poor Zazzalil was huffing and puffing under her weight – Jemilla didn't consider herself particularly heavy but she supposed that, past twilight and exhausted, any person would weigh a mighty burden.

"Zazz, let me get down and..."

But Zazzalil's grasp tightened on her.

"You... stay here... I will carry you home, babe. I'm super strong."

Every step was punctuated with sighs and groans of effort. Jemilla was almost scared she would fall, but she put all of her trust in Zazzalil and supposed that, if she fell, they would just have to fall together.

"Oh, the power," Jemilla noted with humor. "The raw strength. Carry me home, oh Strong One."

It was lucky their village was still a small little thing. Their tribe fire was but a short way away from the huts all laid out in a circle around it. It wasn't long before Zazzalil pushed the threaded veil that was the door to the chiefs' hut to the side to let the chiefs in. Jemilla hopped off her arms as soon as they had stepped past the threshold − enough to give Zazzalil the satisfaction of winning the bet, not so much that she would kill herself at it for no damn reason. Zazzalil clutched her own arms, rubbing them to stop the ache. She was so very cute, which might not have been the adjective she had wished to inspire.

"Oh, you," Jemilla said fondly, warmly.

She wrapped her arms around Zazz from behind and kissed her neck, breathing her in deeply.

"My strong little wife," she sighed. Her palms flattened on her belly − there would have been muscle here if Zazzalil wasn't completely loose and exhausted tonight. "You smell like fire."

"Yeah, no shit," Zazzalil replied. "Been staying next to that shit all night thanks to _someone_. Bet you smell like fire too."

Jemilla huffed into the crook of her neck. With a trickle of kiss, she traced the shape of Zazzalil's shoulder and got a sigh of encouragement.

"But you're the _Firebringer_ , babe," she muttered, low but filling the quiet intimacy of the hut. Zazzalil was leaning her head back against Jemilla to allow and beg her to keep the caresses going. She was more than happy to obey. "You're a little piece of hot stuff."

"I am, aren't I? I'm super hot stuff," Zazzalil replied in kind, stifling a yawn.

She was always so soft when she was tired, a floppiness to her that had no right being this cute and enticing at the same time. Damned be the fabric between them, all that unnecessary layering, and damn Jemilla for not ripping it right off as the thought came. But she had all the time in the world, even when she desired so ardently, so burningly. Zazzalil turned in her embrace and Jemilla could have swooned for the way her arms wrapped lazily around her neck. They kissed, the smell of fire overwhelming her senses. How she loved the feel of Zazzalil's body leaning into hers, how when they kissed, she forgot any and all worries about anything and existed solely for loving her wife.

"Are you gonna take me to bed, or what?"

Jemilla smiled and squeezed Zazzalil's waist gently.

"So, so tired," she said. "I'll need to tuck you right in."

Zazzalil toyed with the back of Jemilla's necklace and gave her a naughty grin.

"I was thinking a few extra steps."

"Mmh, sounds like a plan."

Very carefully, Zazzalil unclasped the feathered necklace from Jemilla and put it down neatly on the table in a corner.

"Can't risk damaging this one," she said with a wink. "How else are people gonna know you're the leader?"

Jemilla loved the casual closeness of it all. It was one thing to marry Zazzalil, even nominally, to be leading together, but it was something entirely different to share a home with her. And a bed.

"How will _you_ know?" She said with a lot more sass than strictly needed.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way to show me, _great leader_ ," Zazzalil replied, matching her tone on instinct.

The look they share might have put their little hut to the flame. Trying to pretend they weren't in a hurry, both of them took off all that was in the way as fast and efficiently as they could. Jemilla kicked off her shoes, took off her brassiere, her skirt, helped Zazzalil out of her dress with hands lingering on the skin uncovered. Their fingers worked together in a perfectly flowing ease, her necklace joining Jemilla's, the bone out of her hair and they shook it out over shoulders. It was curlier at night, the loveliest of sights that often was just Jemilla's to observe. She dropped on the bed like a dead weight, leaning back on her elbows expectantly. Jemilla smirked, but took the unsaid order and sank to her knees.

"You're a pretty great leader too when you want, hot stuff," she said.

Hands against knees, Zazzalil's skin was still scabbed from a spectacularly silly fall down a shallow cliff earlier that week. They scratched against Jemilla's cheeks when she hooked her wife's legs firmly over her shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all that." She dug her fingers deep in Jemilla's curls out of impatience and, Jemilla thought, comfort. "C'mon."

Jemilla smirked. A kiss on the inside of Zazzalil's leg, then the other one for good measure. Zazzalil grunted and her hold on Jemilla's hair became tighter.

"Now, you're being impatient," Jemilla _tss_ ked.

"You had your hours of foreplay watching the fire all night, babe," Zazzalil retorted, "Now eat me."

Whichever of them the leader, neither or both at once, Jemilla couldn't deny her wife or herself such a treat. It was a strange thing, she reflected, to finally be her wife day in, day out, now and till the end of their lives. She had thought about it long before Zazzalil had put the offer up in the air and still, with every kiss, every teasing quip, and yes, every time she plunged her face between Zazzalil's legs, she was filled with amazement at her own luck.

A flick of the tongue and Zazzalil groaned out. Her lips pressing to Zazzalil's, the ones below, though they took to her kisses as softly as that smartass mouth of hers, Jemilla lost herself in loving Zazzalil, the touch as much a tease as it was a relief, trying to please and amuse her. A finger pressing down inside, another one, and Zazzalil fell backwards on the bed floppily. Her grasp on Jmilla’s hair relented slightly, only gently twirling curls around her fingers.

"Fuck, that’s nice."

Most of Zazzalil seemed to be comprised within two moods. She could go from bouncy to lazy in mere seconds but, Jemilla had noted far too many times, the climb back from lazy was never quite as sudden. So be it, she would let her linger there for as long as she wanted. She trusted that the Zazzalil who would leave this bed the next day would be her natural little bouncy self again. For now, she was content in loving the sprawling lazy mess of her as she basked in what Jemilla so readily offered. The sound of her heavy breath, the light rustling of her hands as they now caught onto the furs beneath her, and yes, subtle but to be heard by her only, her tongue against her, her fingers inside, the most natural sounds in the world of their lovemaking.

"Yeah," she said, her thumb catching up with the arduous work of her lips as she spoke, "It is."

She smiled up at her and all the joy in existence was to be found in Zazzy’s tired beaming back. Jemilla’s heart was full with it, which she realized more every passing day of their marriage. She loved Zazzalil and for that she had made the decision to devote her life to her, but equally if not more important, she was rediscovering each day how much she liked her. She liked the sassy brat she could be, no longer annoyed now that she knew how to tame her. She liked how smart and how stupid she could be. She liked listening to her, talking to her, being around her. She enjoyed every moment with her to the fullest. And yes, she liked, loved, adored making love to her.

"You’re so hot," she whispered, trying to have her voice sound sensual for Zazzalil’s pleasure, who had once admitted to loving precisely that. "I love you, my hot little wife."

Zazzalil huffed with humor though, Jemilla noted, she pushed herself into the touch, begging for more. Lips circling around her, fingers slick with just how much Zazzalil was enjoying herself, like a perfect late night snack right in her bed. Perfect and more.

"Yeah, I’m the hottest," she retorted. Her hand caught Jemilla’s to bring her fingers to her breast and Jemilla obliged, working her magic there too. "I love you too but stop talking, I think I’m getting close."

Jemilla grinned but obeyed. Not all moments were made for words. The love of her could flow just as easily putting her mouth to better use. It was in every circle of her tongue, every push of her fingers, and in return it was in the way Zazzalil’s breath hitched for her, how she squirmed at every caress, the strong heartbeat under her palm as she cupped her breast and teased it with her thumb, her fingers digging into Jemilla’s hair again as she effectively got ever closer.

"Fuck," she said. "Fuck, do that thing you do, now."

Jemilla did as Zazzalil asked, of course, pushing her tongue up in her, thumb flicking very rapidly instead of her mouth, and was shortly rewarded with how she clamped around her. In these moments more than ever, Jemilla asked herself what on earth she might have done to find herself the hottest, the best of wives, but then, she supposed that she took excellent care of her to deserve her, too. Zazzalil gave a long, grumbling moan. Her legs stretched in a funny way, a little critter stirring itself in all its small length then curling back into herself. A sigh then, content and done, and her fingers freed from Jemilla's curls.

"I'll do you tomorrow," she mumbled, already closing her eyes. "Now tuck me in and if you wanna cuddle, now's the time cause I don't think I'll last a minute."

She was joking − and she wasn't. A minute was an overdramatic estimation, but not that much. Jemilla did have the time to bury the both of them under a warm fur blanket, their naked limbs tangling into one another till they were a big mess of warmth and comfort. Zazzalil yawned in contentment. She did love being taken care of.

"G'night," she muttered softly. Her face pressed into the crook of Jemilla's neck. "Love you."

Jemilla's arms were around her, holding her as close as could be. It could get cold out here, though not as cold as the cave, but with Zazzalil in her arms Jemilla was warm and hot and never feared the night anymore.

"Love you too, babe."

But Zazzalil had already fallen asleep. Her breath was a quiet little whisper. Jemilla huffed and scratched her hair softly, which made Zazz squint up her nose in a cute funny way, but didn’t stir her from slumber. She closed her eyes, feeling and hearing her breath against her, the beat of her heart if she really focused. Night fallen all around the village, night fallen on Zazzalil, she could only follow along. It wasn’t too bad, she told herself, to stay up late from time to time, if it meant sharing the night with her wife, even exhausted. As long as they were together, everything was right and well. And that, she knew, would be forever and ever and ever.


End file.
